


Curae.

by kyaipn



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Depression, Depressive Episode, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 13:30:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13741941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyaipn/pseuds/kyaipn
Summary: Dan has a depressive episode in 2013, before Phil knew the name.





	Curae.

_"If kisses could cure depression; he would've never been sad."_

_\---_

 It was four in the morning, and Phil could hear Dan pacing nervously in the other room.  
  
The floorboards always squeaked when this happened, sure, but it was after years of this that it had become second nature for him to worry after Dan like a mother to her schoolchild.  
  
Phil also knew, inevitably, that when Dan woke tomorrow he wouldn't be the same.  
  
All the energy of before will have disappeared into the night. He'll want just to lie all day; not eating, drinking or taking care of himself; as if late-night pacing could take all the motivation of a single human.  
  
That's what kept Phil awake. The worry, not the pacing.  
  
Eventually, an hour or so later, the pacing, squeaky floors and worried thoughts settled down to rest for the night.

* 

The next morning, when Phil woke up and went immediately to Dan's room, he found only the presumed lifeless boy and a grunt.  
  
Dan didn't have the energy to say fuck off, but his eyes did.  
  
"You tired?" He asked cautiously.  
  
No response.  
  
Phil went off for the day; to read business emails and schedule meetings, arrange topics and songs for the next radio show.  
  
He tried desperately not to worry of Dan, however impossible that may have been.  
  
At half past two, he returned to the dark, desolate room.  
  
"Dan, please."  
  
A sigh, this time.  
  
"This isn't healthy, you need to get up."  
  
He didn't even lift his head to glare.  
  
Phil never knew what to do --- he usually just spent useless hours begging and hoping, for something. A reaction that never came.  
  
Sometimes he might convince Dan out of bed, a snack or a game.  
  
Not on days like this.  
  
Earlier, much earlier, he had ripped the sheets off Dan like he was a child not waking for school. Dan would lay there for hours, freezing and shaking in pants. He never moved.  
  
Other times, when Dan was found unconventionally on the floor, Phil would attempt to drag him out of it. He never had the upperarm strength for that.  
  
He tried everything; drug store medicine, promises of their favourite shows and songs.  
  
One desperate night he had ordered all of Dan's favourite foods, made a candle-light dinner with their favourite show on play. Dan never came, and the food got cold. Dan, a few days later and a lot less empty, had appreciated both the gesture and the food. It always hurt less.  
  
He kissed Dan's forehead gently, "For me?"  
  
What almost seemed like a pained expression ghosted over Dan's face, but he didn't move.  
  
Phil sighed.  
  
"There's a new episode of Attack On Titan out, come watch with me?"  
  
Nothing.  
  
Earlier -- when Dan was still in uni and far more lost than now --- Phil had played this same role.  
  
He would coax Dan out of bed, or off the floor, with promised episodes of Pokémon.  
  
During those days, Dan often lay about at Phil's flat lifelessly. He would miss lectures and notes for days at a time with no real emotion shown, just disinterest.  
  
Of course, he would come out of it with anxiety-ridden thoughts of failing, to which Phil would reply 'I got some notes from one of your classmates.' in hopes of calming him. It worked, mostly.  
  
Phil didn't realise until much later that Dan was actually calmed by the gesture of Phil caring at all.  
  
And then there were the days where Dan was late for it. He would worry outside class for ten minutes, back and forth on heels. He would call Phil, and Phil would talk him into it. 'It won't be that bad, no one will mind, trust me!'.  
  
After that, still, it took time.  
  
Phil had time. He has time, now, too.  
  
"Please?"  
  
He didn't really know what he was trying for sometimes -- the basics of humans, maybe. Food, bathroom, shower, at least. A face washing.  
  
He got a grunt in return, not unexpected.  
  
"What about if I got you some water, and you drank it?"  
  
"Mm -- " a broken, unused voice replied.  
  
Phil had never worked harder for a perfect glass of water.

Cold, right from the tap. Ice cubes, three perfect ones. Dan's favourite mug, one with 'Best Buds: Dan Howell and Phil Lester' written across it. An old joke from Martyn, on happier days. True, also, of course. Why else would he be here at all?  
  
He tripped back into the room, carefully holding the mug with both hands. He set it down on Dan's side table as if the mug was made of solid gold.  
  
"Here." He breathed.  
  
Dan sighed, and Phil could hear every unused bone cracking with the breath.  
  
"Th-anks." Another voice break, but the best sound Phil could've heard.  
  
Dan sat up --- with time, Phil had that --- and took a sip.  
  
It was almost pitch black, and Dan probably couldn't see what mug it was, nor to care, but it was there. For Phil, maybe.  
  
Dan had always joked about these 'existential crisis's'. Too many busy thoughts in his head, leading him to believe he was worthless. The universe was. As if anyone would ever be better off in some other time, without Dan. Phil knew this wasn't fully that, but he kept quiet and went along with jokes in videos --- as if he ever really turned away from a Dan lying face down, hopeless. He never could've, that part wasn't true.  
  
A few more gulps, Dan set the cup back down. It seemed easier. At the very least, cool water helps a dry sleepy throat.  
  
"How about a shower, then?"  
  
Phil already met the 'no' before it reached Dan's lips.  
  
"Can you use the toilet at least? And clean your face? You'll feel better."

_I'll feel better, too._ He didn't say.  
  
Exhausted, Dan waved a hand.  
  
"Five minutes."  
  
Phil almost uttered 'no, now', as if he still played that distant role of schoolchild's mother.  
  
This wasn't that. Dan needed time.  
  
Phil had time.  
  
"Okay,"  
  
Phil went to the bathroom, preparing things.  
  
Mouthwash, towel, comb.  
  
He knew Dan wasn't really going to fix his hair today.  
  
A moment later, an infinitely tired Dan walked in, wearing messy waves and dirty pants -- and Phil looked at him as the best thing to walk this universe.  
  
Phil wet the towel and put the mouthwash in the cup, as Dan used the toilet. He looked at if he might fall over, and Phil wondered, when they were old, if it would it be like this. Different, but this.  
  
Dan spat, Phil washed his face after.  
  
"There,"  
  
A fear of Phil's --- one of two-billion -- was Dan seeing himself as weak for all this. Phil never could be sure what 'this' was, but he knew it could never made Dan weak. Ever. He never wanted Dan, already battling his own thoughts daily, to feel like needing a bit of extra help was weak.  
  
Moments later, they were back at Dan's room.  
  
"Oh -- crap. Food." Phil muttered out loud.  
  
Dan rolled his eyes.  
  
"Please?"  
  
Saying please probably wasn't the most useful thing, for either of them, but it's what always came out.  
  
"Not hungry."  
  
"How about more water?"  
  
Wasn't 'water weight' a thing? Sometimes water could fill you up, he heard once, and he didn't ever want Dan in any pain.  
  
"Fine."  
  
Getting Dan talking was nice.  
  
But after the water and a fresh pair of pants; Dan was back in bed, lifeless again.  
  
Phil went to sleep early that night.

***

The next morning, early, when Phil woke, Dan was gone.  
  
Not unexpected either, he always went off for a few hours after.  
  
He never took his phone with him, or a jacket. It was freezing out.  
  
A quick look out the window concluded it was also incredibly rainy; dreary.  
  
All Phil could do was wait.  
  
The first time this happened was in 2010.  
  
It had been a day for Dan and a night for Phil. Dan was staying at Phil's flat, he took off. Phil reluctantly called Dan's uni mates a few hours later, to be met with confused words and unknown places. Dan had left his phone, and Phil was terrified he'd gotten himself lost or kidnapped.  
  
He watched the news for hours, waiting for the story of a dead brown haired boy. It never came.  
  
Of course, Dan came home hours later, taken by the cold. Phil hugged him, then yelled at him for being so stupid. Dan didn't have much emotion, but he did compare Phil to an overprotective parent, that he's still just a teenager.

Phil still wondered if maybe Dan taught him to be a good parent, too young.  
  
But after that, Phil learned that Dan always came back to him --- to home.  
  
He also learned that Dan usually appreciated a hot cup of coco, which he willfully supplied.  
  
He got to work on making it, extra marshmallows, and not ten minutes later did Dan come back.  
  
He didn't look hurt, he didn't look happy.  
  
Phil handed him the mug, and Dan forced a grateful smile.  
  
Phil offered back a genuine one.  
  
He knew, mostly, Dan would be better soon. That was nice.

**Author's Note:**

> ttyyy to my friend for telling me this isnt shit. this isnt even good i was coerced into posting this
> 
> tumblr is @phansb


End file.
